You Break It, You Buy It
by MarcoLover16
Summary: Oneshot very short Darco. I can't help it. I always have the odd urge to break things. When you have to choose a character thing, I wish Dylan was a choice...


A/N: This is not like any of my other stories. If you've read any, you'll understand that. It's just a little one-shot that basically came out of nowhere. I'm off this week, so I said, sure, why not? Yeah, so there's no point to it, really lol. I just had a need to write. It's really really short!

"**_Dylan, careful." _**

Those two words were heard quite often in my childhood. They were usually said by my mother or whoever had the arduous task of watching me that particular day. Many of those people decided that the stores were not a good place for me and dreaded any time where they'd forgotten to buy something, having to drag me along with them to a shop.

I always hated shopping. Maybe that's why I always did it. I just wanted attention, or it could be have been just because I'm just a see and touch to believe kind of guy. However, there were a few things I believed in without seeing, like soul mates, but whatever the reason happened to be, there was no denying that I simply adored to break things in stores.

Yes, break. I didn't just touch something for the sake of feeling it. To be completely satisfied with myself, I had to break it. Again, don't ask me why; I really don't know.

There were times when they were completely meaningless items that were cracked or bruised here and there. Then, there were some things of particular value (including a plate my mother had gotten from a dead relative and a china cup that, for some dumb reason, was special) that I was punished terribly for. However, what pissed my family off the most was when I did it in a public place especially when the place had a 'you break it, you buy it' clause.

"It wasn't my fault," I'd always say, but it didn't matter. My mother would take me out to the car to yell at me while my father paid for the items they had bought and what was ruined. It was a good thing we were wealthy. Though I always said I was sorry, my parents and I knew I really wasn't. I never had been. It interested me to see things destroyed.

There was only one time where I had felt completely and truly sorry for breaking something that I knew was special, not to my parents this time, but to me. Breaking my boyfriend's heart was, by far, the worst. Just like saying I was sorry couldn't fix the plates, it couldn't fix his heart either.

What is so interesting to me about seeing things break? I'm still sort of trying to figure that out, considering I was not happy at all when I saw him fall to pieces. Yes, I saw it. He tried to hide that he was crumbling inside by being angry with me, but it was all there in his eyes. Not only did I break his heart, but also broke him.

I'd never explained to Marco, during our relationship, my odd fascination to see things ruined, and if I did, he probably wouldn't have understood. It was strange because it hurt me so much to see him hurting, but I'll never regret doing it. I had to see him break for us both to get stronger. He had to be broken by _me,_ so I could see it happen. He had tried for so long to keep it together, and little did I know at the time that I was trying so hard to tear it apart.

When Marco and I got back together at the end of his senior year, I couldn't be happier. All I remember was kissing him, holding him, and telling him _nothing_ would ever make me hurt him again. It was true too. No interest I may have had in watching things break could have ever measured up to seeing his smile.

So, I figured out the mystery, in case you still want to know. I like to break things to see if and how I can put them back together because sometimes, the new version is even better than the old. I'm not talking about the new version of Marco, but of our relationship.

"Dylan, please be careful," Marco repeated, even more forcefully this time. The two were shopping or, rather Marco was shopping, (Dylan's least favorite activity) and he was getting rather annoyed with Dylan picking up every breakable thing in sight.

"That means put it down," said Marco, raising an eyebrow, "_lightly_," he added, knowing Dylan.

"Alright," said Dylan, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, and putting down the pair of (as Dylan deemed them) 'quite unbreakable, anyway' sunglasses. "They're down."

"I'm done, anyhow. Let's go pay and get you out of here before you break something," Marco sighed, taking Dylan's hand.

A/N: Please review :)


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